All Told Through Routine
by sctwilightvampwolfgal
Summary: Routines tend to tell us the story of love, even if it takes more than a first glance to see it. *My Secret Santa giftfic for SwagaliciousWillowbrook.*


**Merry Christmas, SwagaliciousWillowbrook! Here's the first fanfic that I've written in ages! (I've been mainly writing original poetry and starting a few original stories, rather than in Fanfiction-land, but I really wanted to do the Secret Santa again this year!) I've had a lovely time, and I remember talking about this particular pairing with you before, and I'm super glad to have gotten your request PMed to me! I hope that you enjoy my first dash of MaxLix, ever. It was a ton of fun and the idea behind the story just kind of hit me. :) I hope you enjoy and that Christmas goes wonderfully for you, and New Year's always follows in just as lovely of a fashion. I hope that I wrote these two together in just the way that you like them! It will hopefully be all that you looked forward to and longed for from this Secret Santa, fic exchange! Have a lovely and wonderful day, and a very Blessed Christmastime and rest of this year and on to next year. :) **

It was early mornings that she woke to blaring alarms and hurriedly made herself a Mocha coffee, in order to put some energy into her body when she felt too tired to move. It was either to get her out the door early enough for the really early days of work or for the pre-morning morning workouts. Max always struggled to fall back asleep after the rush of Alix's morning, but he really didn't mind.

On nights she had to wake up, it was always some organic energy drink, because it was a much healthier choice than other energy drinks to keep her body going long after she wanted to quit. She'd adjusted some years ago to the hard work and endurance of athletics, the getting used to what makes one uncomfortable, becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable.

Alix would come home those days exhausted from a workout and still feeling that energy push through her veins, not unlike anger that bubbles, and she'd be more creative than other nights, until that tingling faded from her fingers and exhausted, she curled up by Max's side to sleep.  
He'd started buying her easels a long time ago, to deal with the fact that she had these creative outbursts, and that they had limited wall space. She'd gotten used to the easels that always seemed too small, and she was always quick to set up in either the kitchen or the living room, so that nothing else would be stained via her spraypaint cans.

Max, on those nights, hadn't been in bed for long, as he'd carefully put away his experiments and his notes. It always felt like something new, and the work even when it pushed him beyond what would usually seem to be limits, he enjoyed it. Max imagined that that's what working out was like for his wife; it pushed her beyond herself, and she loved every minute of it.

* * *

"You know those energy drinks taste awful?" Alix sighed, leaning against her husband's side, on an unusually not very busy day.

"Why do you drink them?" He looked over at her, seeing that she hadn't had time for a haircut, her hair had grown a little longer than normal and the pink was fading out first from the tips. They'd probably have to schedule a hair appointment soon, when a break came in handy and when they didn't feel quite so tired.

"I have to; they get me moving." She shrugged. It was just a part of the routine especially as often as she needed them lately. Alix was determined to do France well for the Olympics, and if that meant next to no sleep, and muscles burning from exhaustion, she'd still take it. The pain hadn't really _bothered _her for years. She'd kind of gotten used to it, and didn't flinch at sore muscles or a tired mind.

"They do." Max held her close, and just savored the moment. Some people might expect his mind to wander to what life will be like when they weren't so busy, but he kind of liked their routine. They still spent time together, and sometimes the time tended to be only when they were sleeping, but not always. Days like these always made the hard days easier.

"I bet we'll do well next year." Alix stifled a yawn.

"We will." Max believed in Alix, because she was always an achiever, often an overachiever, and he knew that she'd work hard for France, had already begun to.

"Yeah." Her smile always reminded him of a hard earned pearl, because not every little thing made her smile, and you always felt its worth in your stomach. Max knew that without her, life wouldn't be quite the same at all, and Paris would miss her for it. All of France would.

"When's your Noble Prize coming, anyway?" Alix leaned back against his side; it was one of her favorite questions to ask anyway.

"I don't know. I have to invent something or do something amazing first." Max corrected her, like he always did; the waiting was never intense, because if it came, he'd be glad, but if it didn't, he wouldn't stress.

"You are amazing." Alix smiled, and glanced back down at their hands, as she looped her fingers around his. Perhaps what pulled her in so much were their very different sets of strengths or maybe she liked that he could hold intelligent conversations with her father and her brother or perhaps it was just something else, entirely.

Alix always knew how to keep him going when he couldn't, and he knew that he'd learned how to do that for her. It was a special kind of gift that marriage seemed to bring the both of them, and he wouldn't trade that for the world or a Noble Prize. It meant more to live the best way he could with the woman that filled his life up with more love than one might expect.

"You are, too." Max squeezed her hand, and he could see something in her glow back, as if they'd become matching Chinese lanterns, always eager to shine back to each other and encourage the other with guidiing light.

Alix met his eyes with a look like wildfire, powerful and excitable. She leaned right back against him, only to press her lips against his own. It was as sweet as her gaze had been fiery; it only seem to roast a love back into their veins that was held strong and could never remain dormant. It was the kind of self-awareness that marriage brought along with the kind of gentle love that came from putting the other first and slowly falling in love along the way. It felt sweet but also reached back into the very tips of his soul and held him bravely alive to the fullest.

It was love like this that kept Faith alive and built two people together by God's Grace, to brave even the seas of frustration, tiredness, and anger with upmost patience, the ability to bear the ugly parts of each other for the sake of every beautiful thing that tied them closely together. His smile, even when they separated for a catch of air, was like no other one. It was wild in all of the ways that it was tame; it was love and flame. Max's smile was an extra outpouring of love for his wife, just as hers was for him.

Days like these were the pollen to a growing relationship and the seed to what feels like a thousand years together all in the blink of an eye. This was the joy that kept the spark of Christmas alive in hearts, just as it was the joy that brings awe to one's knees in wonder. This joy happened to be lit as marital love for them, a spark of something extraordinary in the disguise of something ordinary.

So, Max kissed her again, and their hearts seemed to leap and dance between them, as they smiled like loving children down at their wedding rings. Sometimes opposites worked out in all of the ways that no one expected them to.


End file.
